Chapter 1
🎶I Wanted to Leave - SYML
Khushi tapped her foot impatiently on the concrete pavement. She let out a huff and her breath steamed the air. The first snow of the year began falling gently onto the frozen ground, swirling around softly in the night air. She cursed and took a hasty step back into the shelter of the bus stand.
Wrapping her muffler tight around her neck, her frozen fingers fumbled around in her pocket to answer her ringing phone.
"Yo, Khushi, what’s taking you so long?"
“The bus is late, Preeto!” Khushi whined, battling the shivers running down her spine. She checked her watch, it was close to 11 p.m.
"Dang... just wait it out for ten more minutes. If it doesn’t work out, head straight home. We can always meet first thing in the morning!”
“You know why I don’t want to be alone tonight,” mumbled Khushi.
“I know, honey... I’m sorry. There’s been news of road closures because of the sleet. Check the Transit app again—maybe the bus status has been updated.”
“I’ll do that,” sighed Khushi and hung up. Trying to control her tremors, she followed her best friend’s advice and searched for her bus number.
The app still displayed the bus in transit, stuck in the same spot as the last time she checked. With a disgruntled sigh, she wrapped her arms tightly around herself and thought, ten more minutes!
Her gaze swept the empty streets, deserted and eerily quiet. The street lamps cast a ghostly orange glow, their light mingling with the off-white shimmer of steadily falling snow.
Khushi’s breath hitched when a man appeared to be standing just a few feet away from the bus stand. She hadn’t noticed him before since his beige on beige ensemble nearly blended his form with the pavement.
The man had his head bowed slightly, staring into nothing, his body rigid and stock still. Shivers that had nothing to do with the cold now ran through her body. While he had made no move to rouse her suspicions, there was something extremely unnatural with the way he held himself.
An internal battle raged within her—should she wait out the time she’d allotted for the bus to arrive, or make a run for it to her apartment at the end of the block?
Both options felt equally daunting. If she stayed and waited, there was no one around to call for help. She cursed inwardly, wondering why she had refused Bua-ji’s advice in taking self-defense classes.
She glanced around hurriedly; if she ran, he could easily give chase—and given his build, she grudgingly acknowledged that the relaxed fit of his clothing did little to disguise the broad shoulders and the athletic form beneath the thin fabric.
As the minutes ticked by, her paranoia slowly morphed into confusion and curiosity. The man remained completely still, not moving a single muscle. The snow had now formed a layer on his head and shoulders. Ignoring the ridiculous image of a shampoo commercial flashing through her mind, she cautiously inched closer to him.
“Um, hello...?” she asked tentatively.
The man remained unmoving. If he were drunk, he’d probably be on the ground, passed out. High, maybe? But no—he wasn’t twitching or swaying either.
What an oddity, she thought, drawing ever so close. “Sir, are you okay?” she asked loudly.
The man slowly turned his head to look at her, and Khushi sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes were wide and unmistakably dead—there was no other way to describe them.
Emotionless and lost, the brown irises gleamed almost caramel under the orange glow of the street lamp. Dark bruises shadowed beneath his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in eons, yet he remained upright, seemingly held by sheer willpower or some unseen higher force.
His amber-toned skin was veiled by a grayish tinge, as though he hadn’t felt sunlight in years. She guessed his age to be somewhere in his mid to late twenties, but it was hard to tell. His skin was unnervingly smooth, untouched by the lines of laughter or worry, as if frozen in time.
Khushi should’ve taken a step back, or maybe even darted back to her apartment like the king kong was chasing her. But she remained rooted to the spot - something told her he wasn’t dangerous, though every sign of the scene pointed otherwise.
She tried again, “Sir, do you need help? What is your name?”
His lips parted as he stared at her. She was relieved to see a slight frown animating his face.Good, at least he’s not the living dead!
“What is a name?”
She was caught off guard by the sound of his voice, expecting a rough rasp. Instead, it was like honey poured over silk, with a touch of velvet—smooth, rich, and unexpectedly melodic, creating a symphony that lingered in the air. Um...wow, she thought, when the meaning of his response sunk in.
“A name is something you identify yourself with,” she said, feeling utterly stupid at having to explain the concept.
“And... who assigns you this... name?” he asked, his tone curious, as if the idea were entirely alien to him.
“Um,” Khushi said cautiously, her eyebrow twitching as she tried to process the peculiar turn the conversation had taken. “Your parents?”
“What are parents?”
Khushi’s mind drew a complete blank. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if he was a foreigner unfamiliar with her language. But that couldn’t be it—his sentences were perfectly clear, spoken in the same language they both seemed to understand.
Deciding to humor him, she continued, “Parents are...our makers I guess,” she said, intrigued.
“I have a maker,” he mumbled, glancing at the street, his brows furrowed as though deep in thought. “But he didn’t give me a name.”
“Right...” said Khushi slowly, deciding it was time to desert the scene. She couldn’t believe she had let this bizarre encounter drag on for so long. “Well, uh, have a good one!”
She took a few cautious steps backward, unwilling to turn her back on him—a small act of self-preservation. His gaze followed her, steady and unreadable, as his expression returned to its blank, lifeless state.
When she judged herself to be a safe distance away, she turned abruptly and bolted down the block. Her heart pounded as she slowed just enough to wrestle open her building’s gate before rushing upstairs, her pulse echoing in her ears.
Only when she was finally inside her apartment, the door shut and locked securely behind her, did she allow herself a moment to take a few calming breaths. Depositing her bag onto the dining table, she navigated her way to the window in the dim light.
Leaning against the cool glass, she glanced outside. The man still remained where she had left him on the sidewalk, he was now staring at the street lamp, his hair appearing completely white now.
The temperature was well below freezing, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was cold. Even with her multiple layers, the chill managed to seep into her bones. A pang of pity stabbed at her as she glanced at the man. Should she call the authorities? But what if he collapsed from frostbite before they even arrived?
Khushi bit her lip, feeling the absurdity of it all. If nothing else, her encounter with him had managed to momentarily push the thought of her parents’ death anniversary from her mind.
But now, the weight of her earlier wish not to be alone tonight loomed large and unshakable. If he had meant to harm her, wouldn’t he have done so already when they were alone together? Her hands trembled slightly as a new resolve took hold.
Jumping into action, she charged into her bedroom and rummaged through her wardrobe. After some digging, she unearthed Babu-ji’s jacket from his visit last year. It was unshapely and bulbous, but to hell with it. She doubted the stranger would care about looking like a balloon lost in a snowstorm.
She was out of the apartment after typing a hasty message to Preeto;
′I won’t be able to make it tonight, but call me in fifteen minutes! If I don’t respond, call the cops to my address! I’ll explain later, thanks much❤️′
Khushi’s footsteps were muffled against the thick layer of snow now covering the sidewalk as she sprinted toward the bus stand. The man glanced in her direction as she drew closer.
Her breath puffed in frosty clouds as she huffed from the exertion. Stopping an arm’s length away, she held up the jacket awkwardly. “This... is for you,” she said, her voice faltering as her mouth went inexplicably dry.
She could tell he hadn’t moved an inch. His shoes were halfway buried in snow, and the fresh layer around him remained completely undisturbed.How could anyone stay so unnaturally still?!
The man’s gaze shifted from the article she was holding to her form, his eyes skimming over her own clothing. He cocked his head to the side slightly and whispered, “What is it for? I see you are draped in one as well.”
Khushi momentarily whipped her head back and forth, scanning the street. Was this some kind of social experiment to test people’s kindness toward the homeless? A ploy? A prank? She half-expected Preeto to leap out from behind a bin, shouting, “Got you!”
Once convinced that her hypothesis was nothing more than a figment of her overactive imagination, she allowed herself to study him more closely. He definitely didn’t look homeless—he was far too well-fed for that. His clothes, though simple, seemed expensive, crafted from the highest quality materials.
Was he cast away? Had he hit his head during an innocent evening walk and lost all his memories?
“It’s a puffer jacket. Er...people use it during the winters... aren’t you cold?” she asked, finally relieved to say the words out loud.
“I...am,” he said with almost childlike innocence as though only realizing the fact.
“Then, take it!” prompted Khushi, pushing the jacket up to his face. He didn’t flinch at her suddenness but merely raised a hand and accepted it, holding it up slowly.
“Here,” said Khushi impatiently and snatched it back. She ruffled it open and swung it around his shoulders. His hands hung loose by his side as she pulled the halves over his chest. The powdered snow on his head sprinkled down her face as he gazed down at her.
“Uh...” she hadn’t realized that in her haste, she had completely invaded his personal space as she stared up at him. He smelled...unexpectedly pleasant, it reminded her of vanilla beans from her favorite bakery, mixed with a subtle, industrial musk that was strangely intoxicating.
Taking a hurried step back, she mumbled, “Well, that should help, it has a hood too, so you can keep the snow out of your hair.”
“Thank you very much,” he murmured, his eyes boring into hers.
“Yeah, no problem,” she said, dropping her gaze. She turned away, her feet heading toward her apartment, though her mind firmly lingered behind.
The shrill sound of her phone ringing broke the silence.
"Khushi, what the actual fuck?! What was that message all about?? Tell me you are safe!"
“Calm down, Preeto. Yes, I am!” said Khushi, sighing. Her breath hitched when the man joined her side. He stared down at her, his face resonating a mixture of curiosity and...fascination?
The rest of Preeto’s rant barely registered with Khushi as she gazed up at him. “...Let me call you back.”
Sliding her phone into her pocket, she whispered softly, the words escaping before her mind had a chance to censor them.
“Do you need a place to stay the night?”
——Note——
My midnight musings🤭(Inspired by Winter Woods - Cosmos)
